


Brother's Keeper

by Fledhyris



Series: Bound Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Caring Sam Winchester, Collared Dean Winchester, Gen, Non-Sexual Bondage, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Sam Winchester as a reluctant Dom, as a coping mechanism, nothing like your usual collar fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 10:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledhyris/pseuds/Fledhyris
Summary: Set somewhat after the events of 'Naga', when they have removed the restraint collar but Sam has had to re-collar Dean (with an ordinary, symbolic leather one) to help him cope with his new freedom. That story will be addressed, eventually.They have a long way to go yet - Sam isn't fully on board with the whole 'owning your own brother' concept and thinks Dean should spend more time out of the collar than in it. This shows how Dean feels about that, and what it does to him.Moving gradually towards Dean/Sam (within the series) but not there yet. The collaring isnota sexual kink and there is absolutely no sado-masochism involved. Just so you know. This is the caring face of BD(SM). It's really just about Dean giving Sam control so he can relax, and Sam doing his best to be worthy of the trust placed in him.





	Brother's Keeper

Dean doesn’t know what’s the matter with him, just that it gets worse the longer he has to go without _It._ He just feels like he’s all wrong somehow, like he’s dislocated from reality. His pulse flutters and his head pounds, not with pain but as though his brain is stuttering, like a car with a jammed gearbox, trying to find purchase on an ice-slick mountain road. He doesn’t know what he wants, he just wants action; he’s spoiling for a fight, a fuck, anything, the dirtier the better, just to drown out the fizzing in his blood. No, scratch that; of course he knows what he wants, there’s only one thing, _SamSamSam;_ but he can’t have that right now, Sam insisted they take a break, so he’s spinning his wheels. Looking anywhere and to anyone for whatever distraction he can.

He heads to a bar, the grungiest down-town joint he can find, pours cheap whiskey down his throat that tastes almost like the stuff he puts in Baby. If anything, it just sharpens the knife edge of his need. He spots a big guy, biker from the look of him, hassling the girl behind the bar, and that’s all the excuse he needs.

One fight, five bikers later, he’s nursing a black eye, a bloody nose and a possible broken rib. The bartender is phoning Sam with a tangled mix of hero worship and terror, and he doesn’t feel any better for it. He’s even more pumped on adrenaline and pain and riding the blade of want like a glittering highway to Hell. Some walled off corner of his mind observes this dispassionately and wonders if maybe this is how Sam felt when he was hooked on demon blood. For the first time, he thinks maybe he understands that a little, and his new respect for his brother just hones the longing.

 _SamSamSam, need you, hurry_ and at last he’s here, striding into the bar with thunder in his eyes, the shock of his ridiculous mane a storm cloud, and **What the hell Dean, what is going on with you?** as he thumbs over some bills to cover the damage. Sam takes one look into the fever bright eyes of his brother and his own narrow in concern. **We need to get you home,** he says, so Dean follows, the need cresting like a wave. If Sam doesn’t deliver he knows it will come crashing down to drown them both, but he’s helpless to stop it; won’t ask, _can’t,_ because Sam doesn’t understand, not yet...

They get to the car and Sam _(SamSamSam, please...)_ just stands there beside the driver’s door, waiting for Dean to hand over the keys. **C’mon Dean, you’ve been drinking and you’re hurt, you’re in no state to drive,** and it’s not enough, it’s too damn meek and the need flares bright as pain. Dean hears himself snarling a torrent of bitter words, “She’s _my_ car,” and “Just because you can’t handle your drink, don’t mean I’m not good to go,” and when Sam protests, **Give me the keys Dean,** the weariness (disappointment?) clear in his voice, he snaps back: “You don’t control me; you can’t, you’re not strong enough!” He feels his hands ball into fists at his sides and _Sammy please stop this, you have to stop it_ but he still can’t ask and he knows his mouth is an ugly sneer. Sam’s eyes go wide with hurt and shock and the world teeters on the knife edge. The next thing his brother says could be the end of him...

But Sam’s eyes narrow again, snapping into a frown of concentration as he looks at Dean, really looks, and bless Sam for that big geeky brain of his because he can practically hear the gears grinding, and **Is that so?** said softly, steel beneath velvet. Then _SamSamSam, yes, oh, please_ is reaching into his jacket and he draws _It_ out, and **You made a promise, Dean** _yesyesyes_ **So if this is what it takes...** He’s balanced on the knifeblade, still and taut as the blood whistles in his ears like the wind, body in free-fall as his mind focuses on only one thing, the thing in Sam’s hand. He’s pinned like a bug to a windshield with wanting, and -

 **Kneel,** says Sam, and he drops to his knees in the street like a sack of stones, the dull flare of pain as distant as normality, and _SamSamSAM_ fastens the collar around his neck and -

Calm descends, like rain in the desert. The world snaps back into place, the pounding of blood receding as his heart rate slows. His brain kicks back into gear and idles, purring, at the peak of the mountain. The view unfolds around him as though sunlight is lancing through, dissolving fog. _Sam. He’s mine, and I am his. Forever._

* * * * *

Sam drives them home, stealing sidelong glances at Dean every moment he can spare his attention from the road. He looks… content, a small smile curving his mouth, the dangerous glitter gone from his eyes. It’s the very last thing Sam ever wanted, to be in charge like this, to hold this kind of power over his brother. His older brother, who has looked out and sacrificed for him his whole life, and Sam can count to the last, bloody cent the extent of a debt he can never repay. But it’s clear Dean needs this, not just symbolically but on a deeper, psychological level that is terrifying, now Sam has seen what will happen if it’s denied. 

So be it. For better, or for worse, he will be his brother’s keeper. And the collar will stay on.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to write Sam's dialogue **like this** in future; here, it's to show the state of Dean's mind, because it's just a short, POV-centric piece.


End file.
